


Lost in My Mind

by fitzsimmonsshield



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Experimental, F/M, Ficlet, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-24 06:21:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4908658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fitzsimmonsshield/pseuds/fitzsimmonsshield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>**Season 3 Spoilers**</p><p>Jemma is back. And we take a look into her mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost in My Mind

**Author's Note:**

> This was just a little experimental thing I wanted to try. If you guys like it I may develop it further.
> 
> Thanks :D

Fitz approached slowly from behind, undetected by Simmons. In his hands, he held an unfolded shock blanket, which he tenderly draped around Simmons’ shoulders.

She flinched at the touch.

“Mm, sorry,” Fitz said softly. Jemma lifted her head only slightly to acknowledge the apology. To Fitz, she looked so distant, as if she was replaying the last six months in her head. He took a seat across from her, knowing he would probably get caught eventually for being in her quarantine room, and without the special HAZMAT suit. Jemma didn’t have the energy to protest. He figured luck was on his side like the time she had the Chitauri virus. He would take this risk if it meant being close.

Jemma removed one of her hands from the cup of tea she had been holding between her legs to fix the slipping blanket. The tea was still too hot to drink. 

“We’ll be landing in a bit, and you’ll get to shower back at the Playground… your stuff is all still there,” Fitz mumbled.

Jemma tried to let a small smile form on her lips, but everything felt too strained and confusing. Just hours ago she was fighting for her life, thinking she would never see another human being for the rest of her life, and then Fitz appeared. He did it. Whatever he did he made it happen. Jemma was sure to get the full details on it later, but for now, she had to get used to being on Earth again.

Internally, Jemma was experiencing the same kind of effects astronauts felt when they returned to Earth. She had vomited at least three times since getting pulled through the dimensions; the vertigo hadn’t let up either. Her locomotive skills were askew, and it was a miracle the mug hadn’t slipped through her fingers. All she had known for so long was fear, and now it haunted her.

Fitz stayed with her until just before landing. He knew either Daisy or Mack would be coming to check on Jemma before they touched down. He knew he would get promptly yelled at for sneaking inside.

Walking from the new plane, the Zephyr One, to the Playground was strange. There was nothing that wasn’t a weird experience. Her legs were looking for the rugged and mountainous terrain of that cursed planet but clashed against flat ground. Just to see walls, and lights, and be surrounded by warmth was surreal.

Jemma’s body remembered the way to the quarantine bay better then her mind did. She tried to stare ahead as she walked, but couldn’t help but look all around her, to the things that were once so familiar.

Daisy was there in the quarantine bay when Simmons was escorted into her quarters. Jemma kept calling her Skye in her mind. It would just have to be something over time to get acclimated to.

“Make yourself comfy, Jemma, same protocol as always. There are fresh clothes in the dresser for after your shower. And let us know what you want to eat; Coulson says anything you want you got it…. I-I’m so happy we have you back,” Daisy said.

“Thanks Sk-Daisy,” Jemma responded, delicately. 

Daisy smiled, and left. It was hard for Jemma to recognize her as the same person. She had matured. And everyone spoke in such a fragile way to her.

Jemma, now completely alone, hobbled over to the bathroom. She stopped in front of the mirror. She hadn’t seen a clear reflection of her face since she was last on Earth. Caked with mud, and dried blood, her face resembled every other part of her body. She looked older, and hardened. Traces of fear still held in her eyes. The silence unnerved her. She was listening for some close-by alien hunting her. She cut her breathing short. 

Jemma turned away from the mirror and stood in front of the spotless white bathtub. She unraveled the foot mat that was neatly folded on the side. Jemma peeled off the shoes she had been wearing for months. There were holes on the bottom. She had gone through cycles of taking off her shoes and socks when they got wet and she was somewhere safe. She knew, out in the open, she couldn’t afford to get sick. Her feet were hardened with calluses. There was still a fleck of pale pink nail polish on her big toe. Or was that blood?

One by one, Jemma stripped off the muddy and bloodied clothes. She dropped them right at her feet, and shivered when the last item was off. She took time to run fingers over old wounds, feel the way her bones were sticking out, and scratch off patches of dirt or blood. 

Jemma stood at the side of the bathtub for a long time. She felt like she was straddling two worlds; the one where everything tried to kill her and the other where she fit, except the one where everything tried to kill her wouldn’t leave her. She feared even her own shadow hanging over the bathtub. She clenched her eyes shut before stepping into the shower, and her fingers found the familiar activation button the wall. A cascade of water immediately sprayed down causing Jemma to startle. She turned her head downwards to watch the clear water run down her legs and pool up in a black mess on the bathtub floor. She didn’t think of lathering and putting shampoo and conditioner in her hair for quite some time, and even then the water repelling off her body was filthy.

A half-hour into the shower, Jemma reached for the razor. It was one small step to feel human. Not that body hair wasn’t normal, but the thought of being able to rub her bare legs together and feel smooth enticed her. 

When Jemma was done, she dried up, and looked in the mirror again. It was like looking at a ghost. Who was that woman, she looked familiar.

Jemma lingered once more before moving on to get dressed. Most of the sickness she had been feeling had been washed away, except for a few pestering symptons. The sweats and tank top was a size too big; Jemma had lost a lot of weight, but the sweatpants were comfortable, and their looseness helped ease up Jemma’s tense muscles. 

When she got back to the main room of the quarantine bay, Fitz was standing outside, sitting on a lab table. He looked freshly showered, too. Jemma ventured over to the glass, and tapped on it gently for his attention. Fitz slipped off the table, and although his eyes hung with tiredness, his energy was contagious.

“Separated again by glass,” Fitz mused, trying to find humor.

Jemma felt an upturn on the corner of her lips. She smiled.

“At least it’s the only thing that separates us for now,” Jemma replied. She put a hand on the glass next to her face. Fitz answered by putting a hand over hers on his side.

Fitz smiled, and Jemma mirrored it. 

“There were times when I was really terrified, and then… then I thought about that and it gave me hope,” she said.

“Thought about what?” Fitz was confused, and perhaps a bit captivated that Simmons was alive and right in front of him. 

Her eyes gleamed, welling up with tears. 

“I thought about your smile, and it kept me going,” she leaned her forehead on the glass. For so long everything had been chaotic. And now she was home, and with Fitz standing just inches away, she was safe for the first time in a very long time.


End file.
